


Muffled Dragonshout

by MissDelight



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Bondage, Dark Fantasy, Dirty Talk, Face-Fucking, Gags, M/M, Oral Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-30 00:14:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5143193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDelight/pseuds/MissDelight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mysterious stranger has his way with the Dragonborn's mouth.<br/>-------------<br/>Alorn awoke to the sensation of fingers running through his hair.<br/>A low grunt came from his throat as he tried to move.  Followed by another, more urgently, when he found he could not.<br/>“Shhhh,” someone said outside of his view, placing a finger to the cloth over his lips.<br/>Rough ropes dug into his wrists as he struggled with his hands, bound together behind him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Muffled Dragonshout

Alorn awoke to the sensation of fingers running through his hair.

A low grunt came from his throat as he tried to move.  Followed by another, more urgently, when he found he could not.

“Shhhh,” someone said outside of his view, placing a finger to the cloth over his lips.

Rough ropes dug into his wrists as he struggled with his hands, bound together behind him.

Snarling around the gag in his mouth, the Nord swept his gaze wildly around the room.  

It was dark.  The only light came from cracks in the floorboards overhead.

Above he heard the boards creaking in time with footsteps and the murmur of many voices.

The scent of ale struck him.

Looking around the basement he saw stocks of alcohol and other stores.  Beside him lay his belongings and armor.

Ropes bound him around the chest to a support beam and he was seated on a crate which felt immovable, his ankles uncomfortably secured to it, making it impossible to create noise with his feet.

Alorn gnawed at the cloth tightly secured in his mouth, trying to snarl threats at the unseen person stroking his short hair.

They stepped in front of him, caressing a hand across his cheek as they walked, before clamping it down hard over his mouth, and shoving his head back against the beam behind him.

“Noisy bastard,” the man in black muttered beneath his mask, pulling a scroll from his cloak.

In a deep, refined voice they read arcane text aloud and Alorn felt a tingle before he was frozen in place, unable to move or make a sound.

“That’s better,” he said, stroking Alorn’s hair once more.  “Your hair is so soft,” he complemented, sounding amused at his inability to respond.

“I didn’t know Nords could have such fair hair and stunning blue eyes.  I know some people who would pay a king’s ransom for just your looks,” he chuckled.  “I’d even be tempted to keep you.  Under other circumstances.”

A blade snapped open beside his face so abruptly that Alorn would have recoiled if he hadn’t been paralyzed.

The man in black sliced away the cloth tied around his face, then freed the gag from his mouth.

“I don’t normally do this,” the man said in a thick voice that filled Alorn with foreboding.  “It’s bad business.  But, I’m curious.”

He felt gloved fingers trace over his lips.

“The mouth that felled Alduin,” he whispered reverently, cupping Alorn’s chin and turning his face side to side.  He inhaled sharply, squeezing Alorn’s face in his gloved hand.

“I really shouldn’t,” the man groaned, tightening his grip on the Nord’s face.

Alorn would have shuddered if could, as he watched his abductor begin to slowly stroke himself through his leather slacks.

“‘Handling’ the merchandise is against the rules,” he explained, giving the Nord a hungry look.  “What do you think I should do?” he asked his mute captive with a laugh.

It was obvious what he wanted, from the bulge straining within his leathers.

“I’ll tell you what I think,” he said in a sinister voice, untying his slacks.  “I think, your buyer isn’t going to let you do a lot of talking.  So this can stay between the two of us.  Our little secret,” he said with a smirk.

Alorn tried to glare the full weight of his hate and loathing at the man as he opened his mouth and then stood back to admire him.

The bastard stared at him while pumping his fist up and down his exposed cock, apparently enjoying the view of him waiting helplessly, mouth open for him to do with as he pleased.

“Normally, I’d return the favor,” he said, giving the Nord’s crotch an appreciative look.  “But it would raise a lot of questions, if you were covered in cum.  I’m afraid this will just be about me.  So, be a good little Nord, and make sure you swallow all of the evidence when we’re done.”

Alorn seethed as the bastard slowly inserted himself into his mouth.

“Poor Dragonborn.  I can practically hear your thoughts,” he mocked, filling Alorn’s mouth with the taste of his large, salty cock as he slid back and forth across the Dragonborn’s tongue.  “If only I could bite him.  Or shout him apart.  Mmm, if only you could speak,” he said in mock sympathy over the wet sounds coming from Alorn’s mouth.  “That voice of yours would rip me apart in an instant.”

Bunching his fists in Alorn’s hair he began thrusting slow and deep.  

The man clearly wanted to drag the experience out as long as possible, Alorn thought with disgust.

Withdrawing for a moment the man in black paused, looking down at Alorn, and the sight of the fair Nord’s lips around his dark cock, his drool running down from the corners of his mouth.

“Has anyone ever told you, Dragonborn,” he said in a husky voice.  “How good you look with a dick in your mouth?”

Groaning, he resumed thrusting into Alorn's mouth again, faster this time.  

A fresh wave of saltiness filled Alorn’s mouth, and he realized it was the taste of precum.  He had never sucked cock before, and so far, he despised the experience.

The man in black began grunting in pleasure, his grip tightening in the Nord's short, fair hair as he fucked his mouth.  His captor seemed on the edge, barely able to hold himself back from coming.

He began roughly fucking Alorn’s face, hitting the back of his paralyzed throat, practically tearing out the Nord's soft hair bunched in his fists.  

Each time the large cock hit the back of his throat, Alorn gagged on it, unable to breath.

“Gods…” the bastard groaned out in a low moan.  “Your mouth is fucking divine.  How many men can say they’ve had the Dragonborn choking on their cock?”

His thrusts sped up as his own words seemed to excite him.  

Alorn was choking and gagging loudly now, adrenaline pumping in his veins, as he began feeling light headed from the constant interruption of air.

“Yeah, that’s it,” the man standing over him grunted in ecstasy, his breathing speeding up.  “Swallow that cock.  Just like that.”

Alorn wished he had a choice in the matter, as he felt the man's furious pace bringing him close to climax. He longed to be able to move his head, to escape from the relentless abuse of his throat, and what would happen next.

Head thrown back, the man in black clenched his teeth to suppress his shout as he came.  

The man's cock stiffened and spurted foul liquid into his mouth.

 Alorn coughed, breathing hard through his nose.

He hated the taste of cum, he decided.  He was forced to swallow the majority of it against his will, but there was more of it occupying his mouth and he could also feel it running down his chin.  He wanted nothing more in life than for the paralysis spell over him to end so he could spit out the revolting stuff and shout his abductor to death.

Panting, the man in black slid slowly out of his mouth, looking like he had just come back down from Sovngarde.  Sighing euphorically, he tied his pants back together with quick, nimble fingers.  His skill with ties and rope was apparent.  Alorn wondered if he tied people up for a living - and how many of them were unwilling, like him.

“Allow me,” the man said, using Alorn’s gag to wipe the cum from his chin before stuffing the foul cloth back in the Dragonborn’s mouth with a smug expression.  Alorn never wanted to kill a man so much in his life.

“I think you may be the best I’ve ever had,” he said, cinching a cloth roughly around Alorn’s gag.  “We should do this again sometime.  If you manage to escape whoever paid me to deliver you, I mean.”

Alorn began to feel sand in his toes, like his limbs were just waking from a very long nap.  He managed to flick his blue eyes to glare at his captor.  He wanted to memorize every detail of the man’s appearance, so he’d be able to hunt him down later.  Red eyes and gray skin revealed he was a Dark Elf.

“No, I don’t know who they are,” he said, incorrectly guessing Alorn’s thoughts.  “I don’t ask questions.  It’s bad business.  I just obtain and deliver.  But, I might keep tabs on you.  Break the rules a little,” he said, removing his glove and combing his fingers through Alorn’s hair once more.  “If nothing else, I could tie you up in a cellar somewhere and charge a fortune for one evening of bliss, just like this.  I’ve always wanted to go into business for myself.”

Alorn manage to jerk his head from his grasp, some of his muscle control returning.  He spied a long, pale line along the back of the elf’s hand.  A scar.  He memorized the shape of it, burning it into memory for later,

“Such spirit.  I wish we had more time to play together,” he said with a sigh.  “That mouth is going to haunt me.”

Alorn heard three quick knocks followed by two slow ones.

“That late already?” his captor asked in surprise. “Take care of yourself, Dragonborn,” he said, running a hand through Alorn’s hair one last time before going to open the cellar and let in their guests.


End file.
